


i will listen, tell it all, when you're finished we'll talk more

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Boundaries! Are! Okay! And! Healthy!, Depersonalization, Dissociation, Eventual Fluff, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), jon is supportive and lovely, martin has a panic attack, martin is bad at letting himself heal, martin is but a vessel for me to vent and work through some stuff, over-stimulation (kind of), past non-consensual touching (mentioned), this is just projecting guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: Martin smiled to himself, noting how not even the light from the TV was unflattering on his boyfriend. He sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. Jon shifted, wrapping one arm around his waist, tugging their bodies closer together in a gentle hug, letting one of his hands wander up to Martin’s neck, pressing so close, oh so close-Martin froze, his breath catching in his throat. Memories of long ago, of another time somebody had squeezed him, missing all of Jon’s tenderness but at the same time so familiar.TRIGGER WARNINGPast non-consensual touching, panic attack, Martin is uncomfortable with touch for a while there. Somebody disrespected his boundaries and hugged him against his will when he was younger and that resurfaces here.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 34
Kudos: 137





	i will listen, tell it all, when you're finished we'll talk more

**Author's Note:**

> writing fanfiction? do you mean my only slightly healthy coping mechanism? me projecting a traumatic experience onto martin haha...jk jk...unless?  
> yeah so disclaimer: i had repressed some stuff that i remembered the other day and i am still having a hard time with that, this is an attempt to rationalize my reaction so please don't leave a comment unless it's positive/supportive. i don't think i can handle criticism right now, this isn't meant to be good, just free therapy  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS (lmk if i missed one please!)  
> -past non-consensual touching  
> -panic attack  
> -martin down-playing his feelings  
> -dissociation/depersonalization (feeling out of place in his body, etc.)
> 
> stay safe!  
> xxx

Martin and Jon lay tangled on the couch, the smaller man resting his head against Martin’s chest, watching a documentary on sea creatures on Daisy’s small television. It droned on and on, colorful fish darting across the screen, the movement of the blue water soothing and peaceful.

Martin rested slowly brushed his fingers through Jon’s hair, the motion almost habitual at this point. He hadn’t been paying attention to the TV, most of his brain occupied with the effortless way they fit together. They had been apart for so long, Martin wasn’t sure he would be able to remember how to do this, how to be gentle, loving, someone Jon could trust not to hurt him. With every pass through his wavy hair, Jon relaxed a little more, melting into him, his eyes trained on the screen.

Martin smiled to himself, noting how not even the light from the TV was unflattering on his boyfriend. He sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. Jon shifted, wrapping one arm around his waist, tugging their bodies closer together in a gentle hug, letting one of his hands wander up to Martin’s neck, pressing so close, oh so close-

Martin froze, his breath catching in his throat. Memories of long ago, of another time somebody had squeezed him, missing all of Jon’s tenderness but at the same time so _familiar._

_“Come here, don’t look at me like that.”_

_“I don’t want-“_

He wasn’t aware of moving but somehow he was sitting bolt upright, his head ringing, his hands clenched in his lap. Something was shaking, he wasn’t sure if it was the ground or his own body. _Why was everything so loud? Jon must have turned up the TV, why would he do that?_ He couldn’t understand the words coming from the speakers, something was foggy somewhere. Martin felt clammy and hot at the same time, feeling burning handprints across his body, tracing a story he had forgotten and wished he still didn’t remember.

_“Don’t want what? It’s just a hug, where’s the harm?”_

_“But I…no, I don’t-“_

Martin closed his eyes, breathing shallowly. He was suddenly aware of how cold the air was around him; Jon had drawn back quickly. He still couldn’t focus on what was being said around him, was Jon speaking? Or was it just the TV? He tried to flex and unflex his hands, his body feeling alien. Was this his body? He felt movement beside him but kept his eyes screwed shut, trying not to let any hot tears escape.

_“Why are you making this such a big deal? Just come here, don’t be so afraid.”_

_“No, no, stop please…”_

_“There there, see, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Don’t make such a fuss next time.”_

He felt Jon cup his face in his hands, he opened his eyes and tried to force the world back into focus. Jon was sitting next to him, only touching his face, saying something over and over. Martin breathed in, still feeling like he was somewhere else, not in his body, not here with Jon.

“…rtin, Martin, _Martin_ ,” he was saying over and over. He blinked, the edges of his vision blurry. Something was ringing in his ears, making it hard to hear what Jon was saying. His skin burned and he wished he could crawl out of it.

“Mmm…yeah?” Martin managed, trying to seem like nothing was the matter. Nothing was _wrong_. He was safe, he was loved, he was being held, so why did he feel like this?

Jon looked at him in concern. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, careful to minimize their points of contact.

He tried for a smile, tried to relax his muscles, and unclench his fists. “I’m fine,” he said, staring at the ground between his feet.

Jon hummed. “…no, I don’t think you are. What happened? Was it something I did? Are you hurt? Can I help?”

The flood of questions washed over him. Martin knew they were well-intentioned, knew Jon was just trying to help, but he felt overwhelmed and cornered all the same. He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself as small as possible. “Not, not right now, if that’s alright?” Even when it felt like his lungs were burning and his body was drifting away from him, he still couldn’t afford to push Jon away. Not when he had just managed to find him again after so long.

Jon immediately stopped talking and sat up straight, carefully considering him. “Do you want me to give you some space?”

“Er, yes please.” _Don’t think about him touching- don’t think about him- don’t think about touching- **don’t think**_.

He slowly scooted away until he was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, his legs crossed. Jon rested his hands on his knees, palms up and non-threatening. “Better?”

Martin nodded, still struggling to breathe. He could _feel_ hands on his back, something pressing down on his chest. He stared at the floor for a moment, memorizing the grains in the wood to keep from completely collapsing. It was methodical, something he had often turned to when he was younger.

Jon didn’t say anything, just sat there, his presence calming in his stillness. After a while, he spoke again. “Do you want me to make tea?”

He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak right now.

A few minutes later he returned, a mug in each hand. Jon carefully sat down again, not making any sudden moves. “Here,” he said softly, handing him a cup of tea, handle first as not to brush against his skin.

“Thank you,” Martin whispered, the warmth of the drink in his hands grounding. He still felt like something was going wildly out of control inside him, but his hands had slowed their shaking.

“Can I ask…” Jon said tentatively, “What happened? Did I do something?”

He couldn’t resist a sardonic grin at that; no matter what went wrong, Jon was always first to blame himself. “No. No, it wasn’t you.”

“Then why…”

Martin took in a measured breath again, feeling it pain his lungs. “It’s nothing,” he said with much less conviction than he would have liked. “Let’s just forget it, alright? It’s not a big deal.”

Jon looked at him with concern written across his face. “ _Not a big deal_ … Martin, it’s not _nothing_. You’re upset, you’re still struggling to breathe. If there is something I can do, I want to be able to help you. I’m here for you.”

“Not this.” Martin traced a finger along the mug in erratic circles. “You can’t fix this.”

“No, love, not _fix_ , you don’t need fixing. You aren’t broken.”

He took a sip of the liquid, not tasting it. “Aren’t I?”

Jon looked like he wanted to close their distance again; Martin was grateful he didn’t. He didn’t think he could handle any touch right now. “You aren’t broken,” he repeated, his voice low.

“Then why-“ Martin’s voice broke. “ _Why_ am I reacting like this? All you did was hug me, you’ve done that before, but I- that’s not normal, Jon. _I’m_ not normal.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, and you can tell me to stop talking if I’m crossing a line, but-“ Jon bit his lip, still looking at him like he might collapse in front of his eyes.

Martin wasn’t sure he wouldn’t.

“-something like that has happened before, hasn’t it?”

“I- yes, it has.” Flashes of memory darted through his mind, somebody so much bigger than him grasping his shoulders, street lamps haloing their head, his mother’s derisive voice when he had told her what had happened before. Martin didn’t want to say anything, he was _fine_ , he could handle this on his own this time, but Jon-

Well, Jon was still here. Still watching him with so much love in his eyes it _hurt_ , moving carefully, measuring his words as to not startle him again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no compulsion there, no strings layered under the words, just care. Martin took a deep breath and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s stupid, I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, it’s not a big deal…Something happened, a long time ago, and- it was just a hug- somebody touched me, even though I repeatedly said _no_ , told them to _stop_ , but they _didn’t_ and I just felt so helpless, I still do- but it was so long ago, I’m making a big deal out of nothing when you, oh gosh, when you’ve been through so much and I’m freaking out over somebody touching me _years_ ago-“

His words were rushed and broken, halting in all the wrong places. He wanted to make Jon understand that this wasn’t _his_ fault, it was Martin’s, for having a broken brain and body, that this was just him overreacting as usual.

Jon interrupted him gently. “Hey, hey, slow down. Breathe with me. In, out. In, out, there you go, deep breaths.”

Martin closed his eyes again and tried to slow his breathing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” Jon said quickly. “There’s a lot to unpack there, but for now, just breathe, okay?”

He still felt like he wanted to burn his skin off but he followed Jon’s example, breathing in, out, until it felt like he wasn’t going to throw up anymore.

“Is that better?”

Martin nodded, swiping angrily at a few tears that had escaped his eyes.

“Good, love, that’s good. First, Martin, it’s not stupid to react like that. Recovering from something traumatic is not linear, your actions are valid and you don’t need to apologize for them.” Jon set his mug down on the ground and extended his hand, letting Martin decide if he wanted to take it. “And just because you think I had it worse _does not in any way_ lessen _your_ experiences, okay? You are allowed to feel like this.”

Martin let out a shaky breath at his words, feeling calmer. He stretched out his own hand and gently rested his fingertips atop Jon’s, taking comfort in the touch but not trapped. “I know, but-“

He clicked his tongue. “No buts, this is okay. _You_ are okay. You are loved and safe. You are a wonderful, caring person who deserves everything good this world has to offer. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not again.”

Martin started to cry at that, tears silently flowing down his face. “I love you, Jon,” he said.

“I love you too.”

“But what if this doesn’t go away? What if I react like this anytime you touch me? What if I can’t hug you like I used to? I mean it was just a one-time thing, I’m sure I’ll be feeling better in a little bit, but I don’t know for sure-“

“Martin,” Jon said firmly. “The fact that I love you _is not conditional_ on the amount of touch you can tolerate. If you feel uncomfortable with anything, I will respect your boundaries and love you like I always have, you have always respected mine.”

Martin swallowed the last of his tea in one go, desperate for something to do with his free hand. “But that’s different.”

“Is it?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think it is.”

“I’m supposed to make you happy.”

“Look at me, Martin. Tell me what you see.”

He looked up from his mug and into Jon’s eyes. There he saw concern, gentleness, ad love, but no fear. No disgust, no disappointment at the unknowns in their future. “I see you, Jon,” he said quietly.

“Exactly. And I _am_ happy. I will be happy with whatever parts of yourself you feel comfortable sharing, with however you feel like showing affection. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Thank you.” There was so much more he wanted to say, _thank you for listening, thank you for understanding, thank you for always being there even when I don’t know how to be, thank you for loving me_.

“Of course. You tell me how you are comfortable touching and being touched, alright? We don’t have to talk about that right now,” he said hurriedly. “But we will, okay?”

“…yes. That sounds great.”

Jon smiled. “Do you want to keep watching the documentary?”

Martin considered this, grateful that he could feel the rest of his body again. “Sure.” He still felt a remnant of anger, hatred directed at a person long-vanished out of his life and at the small part of himself that wanted to rip his skin off. “A distraction might be nice right now.”

He turned the TV back on, the volume low. Martin gently squeezed Jon’s hand, grateful to have him by his side.

They spent the rest of the night watching the documentary, Martin slowly growing comfortable enough to rest against Jon’s side again.

He fell asleep like that, his head on Jon’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for coming to my therapy session! if you have any (positive) thoughts i would love to hear them  
> drink water, take your meds, don't forget to sleep and eat, people care about you<3<3  
> titel from the dodie song "Ready Now" which is basically the theme song for this fic


End file.
